The Chameleon
by 252020
Summary: * ON HOLD* She has survived the Games more times than anyone else. But victory comes with a prize, it destroys who you are. Rosalie has all but given up on life. Surviving is the only thing she knows how to do. But then Snow takes things one step too far in his attempts to control her... and sometimes one step is all it takes. Finnick/OC & Katniss/Peeta
1. An Appointment

**Prologue**

She stood in the shadows watching the crowed in front of her. Once she had stood among them, one in a sea of district children. She was older now, but she remembered it as if it had been mere moments ago that she too had stood there, waiting to see if she was going to be 'chosen' as tribute. Most would get to go home, feeling relief that they hadn't been reaped, that perhaps they didn't even know the 'chosen' as anything more than passing acquaintances, or perhaps as people they some times see around school or the market place. She had never been one of them. She never got to go home at all.

On her very first reaping ceremony it had been her name that had been read out, Rosalie Vail. She remembered the fear of course, but more than anything that stupid hope that someone older would volunteer. She had been too young; she had thought that surely there would be someone who would take her place. But no one did.

She had been innocent back then, pure, trusting, native. Those aspects had left her within days after entering the Capitol. She had only been 12 years old, her district partner had been 17. But partner was perhaps too strong a word; most tributes work with their district partner for as long as the other survived. Sam had not been like the others. The moment they entered the arena he had turned his back to her, telling her he was sorry, but he couldn't let her weigh him down. At least he hadn't killed her.

She had come out a victor, the first ever to win without taking a single life. She had only done what any scared 12-year-old would, hid and run. And she had hid well, she had run fast. But never from the other tributes, they never found her, and when she won the Capitol's people thought her a coward. But to President Snow she had been the perfect victor to show off in the districts; living proof that only those with a bowed head survived.

Then four years later a 13-year-old girl had been reaped in District 12, and Rosalie had volunteered to take her place when no one else did. She was too young for the arena. To the Capitol it was exciting, an interesting twist. A victor had never offered themselves as a tribute before, not in any of the districts. But she was still of her district and she had still been young enough, and in the end they had allowed it. This time however she killed, and she killed savagely when the careers ganged up on her in the beginning of the Games.

But the girl wasn't the only one who was too young for the Games that year, the male tribute had only been 12 years old; he hadn't even known how to hold a knife properly. His mother had tried keep him pure, and had all but signed his death warrant by doing so. But Rosalie had still tried to save him. She had kept him alive until they had been the only ones left standing. Then she had refused to kill him, unaffected by the treat of the Gamemakers, it was easier when you had been forced to have him inside you again and again. The boy had not been. He had rushed her with a knife with tears in his eyes yelling he was sorry as he did so. She still had the scar. Yet she still refused to take his life, and in the end she had merely chocked him until he passed out. But it was all for nothing. She thought she could save him; get both of them out alive. Instead they had killed him. After all, there could only be one victor.

It had almost broken her. He had been too innocent. He had even looked like an angel with chubby cheeks, blond hair, and large sky-blue eyes. He hadn't look more than eight or nine… After the Games a Capitol artist had done a painting of him with black wings holding a knife dripping with blood. He had named it the Fallen Angel, and it hadn't taken long before a new fad had swept across the Capitol after that. Only the arrival of the 73de Hunger Game had ended it, and it was the only good thing Rosalie had seen with them. Adam would finally get to rest in peace, without the Capitol making a mockery out of him with their 'fallen angel' themes, the fake wings, and winged broaches and hair styles. She had wondered why Snow had allowed it.

That year a girl of 18 was chosen, she had begged Rosalie to take her place. Telling her to do the same for her as she had her cousin the year before, she had even seemed to expect her to. Rosalie had only sneered, remembering this girl from her own childhood. She had smiled when Rosalie was reaped, smiled as her classmate was taken. In some ways she despised all of them for that, district and Capitol alike. The Capitol that enforced the Games, and the Districts that let them. Not that this particular girl could have done anything. Still... they had never spoken again, and she had been one of the first to die that year.

This year however Rosalie wouldn't fight no matter what. She was too old now, no longer a child in the eyes of the Capitol. Of course she hadn't been a child since before she was first put on that train at the age of 12, but they didn't see it that way. However the relief at the thought of not fighting had brought her disappeared as soon as the name of the new female tribute was called out and a child stepped forward. Primrose Everdeen, she ahd been younger than the last year's 'chosen'. She could be no more than 12, and somehow she found Rosalie's eyes in the shadows where she stood with the only other District 12 victor, Haymitch. And without saying a word she was pleading with her to take her place, and like every other time Rosalie saw herself in the young girl, and the memory of walking towards what she had been sure was going to be her death rose in her mind again. But this time there was nothing she could do. She felt powerless. But unlike the other times someone else spoke up for the 12-year-old, someone else offered to take her place. The sister, Katniss Everdeen.

Later, as they waited for the new tributes to say farewell to their loved ones, Rosalie was trying to figure out her own feelings on what was happening, she should be happy, she should be proud of Katniss. Proud that someone had done the right thing. She had done what she hoped someone other than her would have the balls to do, stand up and save at least the youngest from the reaping. But instead she felt an instant dislike and she couldn't figure out why or where it had come from.

"Jealous?" Her old mentor suddenly asked, watching her with a small smirk.

"I am happy not to be in the Games." She said defiantly in response, and she meant it. She was not jealous. She had never wanted to be in the Games, but the Games and the Capitol had already sullied her. If given a choice she would save other children from the same fate, it was the right thing to do, and she had.

"Oh I know that, I meant of Katniss and Primrose."

"Why would I be jealous of them?" She hated when people thought they could read her. They were almost never right.

"Well, Primrose's sister took her place, and while all you get for volunteering is stunned silence followed by unjust expectations Katniss got…. well, standing ovations I supposed you can call it."

"This is completely different. Besides I never fought in any of the Games to get anything from them. The district adults disgust me as much as the Capitol does."

"And you don't really try to hide it. You pretty much hate everyone, don't you?" He said, then shook his head. "But for now, try to forget that, sit down and have a drink before the new tributes comes in. And try to be nice to them."

"You are hardly nice. You drink, ignore and are generally rude." She said in disbelieving amusement. She owed Haymitch her life many times over, he was a good mentor, a great ally to have, and she liked him a great deal. But she wasn't lying and he wasn't wrong, she pretty much did hate everyone. He was one of very few exceptions. It was hard not to when the people that should love and protect you send you away to fight for your life, then, if you survive, become a plaything for the Capitol. To them she, and any other district member, was the equivalent of a talking dog.

"At least I am not a bitch. Besides, one of us should be the nice one."

"I vote you."

"You have won 2 times. You could teach them more than I."

"That only means I get two votes." Haymitch only looked at her and she sighed. "Odds are they will both die, after last year… it's too soon…. besides you are a great mentor. You kept me alive both times."

"The first time I only sent you some paint, after that healing salves. You pretty much only did your own thing, and it worked. You have more experience in the arena than anyone else. Ever. With your help one of them might get to come back home."

"It never helped before and we never get to go home. As soon as your name gets called out your home cease to exist. Neither of them will ever come 'back home'."

"Alive then. Come back alive."'

"That depends on your definition of 'alive'."

**Chapter ONE**

_-Two months after the 74th Hunger Games-_

Katniss had done what Rosalie couldn't; she had gotten both herself and Peeta out of the Games alive. Of course Rosalie had done her part too, and Seneca Crane had paid for it with his life. But now they were all going to share the penalty. It was a Quell Game coming up, and a few whispered secrets and rumours between the sheets had been enough to tell Rosalie just what she needed to know. She just didn't know how it was going to affect her yet. Next year's tributes were going to be chosen from the previous victors, two from each district. But while she was sure the president wanted to be rid of Katniss more than her, she didn't know where it left her. She was hardly a favourite of his. But for now she would just have to wait, observe, and play the game. Which led her to her current whereabouts, getting ready for yet another 'appointment'. Not that this was one of her worse 'dates', Sebastian wasn't into bondage or humiliation. Nor did he get jealous or possessive. In fact he rarely touched her sexually in any way, he preferred to watch.

She wasn't surprised when the door opened before she even knocked. After all, he knew she was coming. What did surprise her was the location; Sebastian usually had her come to his home, or came to hers. Never before had he sent her somewhere else, it made her wonder just who her partner would be this time. Most of the time he preferred just watching her play with herself, only slipping into bed with her afterwards. He looked cuddling. But some times he would bring in a partner for her, she could only assume this was going to be one of those times.

The sight that greeted her on the other side of the door made her eyes widen momentarily. Most of her past partners had been common men, handsome, but common. Once he had brought in Johanna, another victor. But this was the first time he had brought in a male victor. Though now that she looked at him there were some similarities to the previous partners he had chosen for her in his built or features. Even the same blonde hair. Perhaps they had even been chosen for their likeness.

"Finnick Odair." She said, not quite able to hide her surprise. In response he gave one of those flirty smiles that had Capitol women lining up to jump into bed with him.

"Rosalie Vail, now why would Snow give you to me?"

"Sorry to break it to you, you are just a prop." But then again, weren't they always? "The guest will be here soon, if he isn't here already."

"I admit this is a first, a husband and wife?" He guessed. She was surprised, he didn't know who he was meeting? How did he prepare?

"No, just one. Sebastian likes to watch. He doesn't participate."

"A regular of yours?" He asked, more curious than anything else. But then again, who was he to judge. He had more appointments than anyone else.

"I only have regulars." She said, as blankly as she could. But it was the truth; she made sure never to have more than five regulars at the time. For once Caesar Fickerman had it right when he named her a chameleon. She adapted to any situation, and she manipulated it to suite her. She was what the Capitol had made her. Once she had even gotten one of her old regular to destroy another when she wanted to change up. She hadn't cared how. More than five was simply too much work.

"I really wonder how you always seem to get out unscathed." He said, shaking his head. And once again there was no judgement there, just curiosity. "Why are you keeping this one?"

"Are you going to try to steal him away from me?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, making him laugh bitterly.

"I have enough, thanks."

"He is Snow's son-in-law. I actually think he loved his wife, and he silently blames Snow for her death. He tells me the most interesting things after he sneaks into bed with me after his chosen prop leaves. He can't get it up himself since the accident, that is why you are here."

"Just who else is in your little web?" he asked, and the innocent curiosity seemed to have switched over to calculation. Smart boy.

"You tell me your secrets, and I might tell you mine." She told him just as the door opened, and Sebastian came though it. He was tall, like most wealthy Capitol residents he was well built, not an ounce of unnecessary fat on his body. He really was handsome, if a little old for her. But that didn't matter, it had no sway in her decision to keep him as a regular, he was useful.

As if a switch had turned she put a soft smile on her lips, and a longing in her eyes as she turned and looked at him.

"Sebastian." She walked over and gave him a soft kiss, which he returned. He looked sad. "I have missed you."

"Not as much as I have missed you." He glanced over at Finnick. "Is he to your liking?"

"I rather have you." She told him, with what at least sounded as perfect sincerity.

"You know that is not possible. I hate what he makes you do. This is the least I can give you." She almost laughed, Snow might be the one pulling the strings, but Sebastian himself was just as much to blame. Did he not watch her undress, tell her what to do, who to be with?

"I want to make you happy, you have had so much pain in your life. It is not fair." She told him instead. He smiled at her, then looked over at Finnick as a man inspecting his purchase.

"I'm told he is the most handsome man in Panem."

"Yet I will be imagining your face." She said, perhaps she was laying it on a little thick. But she knew he liked it. He laughed a little, kissing her nose.

"Go, get ready. I don't have much time today." He looked over at Finnick with none of the softness. "You too."

Throughout the act Rosalie kept her eyes either closed or on Sebastian, as if to reassure him that Finnick meant nothing to her, that she was doing this to please him. And as always he seemed more relaxed when he left. Pleased too. She silently cursed Finnick's presence though. Because of him Sebastian didn't slip into the bed next to her when they finished, didn't whisper any secrets or give her any warnings. Instead he kissed her forehead and left.

Left with only Finnick she turned to look at him, he was watching her with curious eyes. She sighed. "Is it okay if I stay a bit? I'm quite tired." That seemed to stoke his male ego and he nodded his consent. She was just on the verge of falling a sleep when he spoke, drawing her back to reality.

"He loves you." He said, sounding a little surprised.

"He thinks he does." She agreed.

"You are good, I have never felt so invisible during sex."

"I'm sorry." She apologised, and she meant it. Sebastian and Snow may be using her, but she had just used Finnick as much as they did. "I need him. He tells me things. I'm sure you already know about the Quell, he was the one who told me."

"What about them?" He asked. He was tense and she figured she might as well tell him what she knows. At least the general stuff. He should get something out of the night, even if she didn't.

"I don't know much. I know the tributes are going to be chosen from the victors. President Snow aims to correct Seneca's mistake." He sat up, alarmed.

"How long have you known this?"

"About a week. They are looking for a new head Gamemaker as well. All I know is that it looks like Peeta and Katniss both are going back into the arena. This time I doubt either is coming out."

"The reaping draws are rigged?"

"At least the female draw for my district. I don't know about the others." She looked up at him curiously from her spot on the bed. "You didn't know?"

"No." He admitted, and he didn't sound pleased. "I didn't."

"You should make them feel special, don't be such a flirt. They will tell you more, do more for you." She offered her bit of advice with a quiet resigned tone. "They even kill."

"Who exactly do you have in your web?" He asked for the second time that evening.

"I can't tell you that. But Seneca was one of them, why did you think he did a sudden rule change?"

"He took it back."

"But he still let them both live. He knew the risk, more or less."

"I think I have underestimated you." He admitted, making her laugh a little.

"Most people do."

"You know what Snow did to him, right?"

"Of course. Snow told me himself. Told me to know my limits if I want my pets to survive. I don't know why he keeps sending men to me, useful men at least. Maybe he has a soft spot for me." She said sarcastically. "Or maybe he is trying to create a weakness he can exploit. After all, I don't have any friends or family members he can use against me."

"You are a cold bitch." Finnick said, though he sounded more sad than disgusted. But there was almost a hint of admiration there as well. Still, for some reason it made her remember the first time they had met, before her first game. She had been different then, it was before she had been poisoned by hate. He had had been kind, made her laugh with a silly joke. Maybe that was what made him say it, she didn't know. She didn't care, she knew what she was.

"That's the point." She admitted instead. "Now shut up and let me sleep. You wore me out." He laughed.

**TBC…**

So, what do you think? Should I give this Hunger Games fic a shot? It's my first, oh and I have only seen the movies and I have no intention of reading the books until I have seen all four movies. So I might end up doing my own ending, completely different from the real one. But still be aware of possible spoilers since I might look things up online.


	2. The Training Centre

**Chapter TWO**

Unlike Finnick, Rosalie didn't have her own flat in the Capitol. It was a choice she had made long ago, staying at the training centre gave her easy access to the training facilities, and it reminded her why she was there. That this was not her home. As if she needed reminding... but it was better safe than sorry.

She had stayed at Finnick's place longer than she had intended and headed straight for breakfast. After that she had every intention of taking out some of her disappointment from the night before in the training stimulation. All that work, and she had gotten nothing. Well, she had gotten decent sex, it had been a while, but not worth the trouble. She'd rather gotten some gossip about what Snow was up to, or what was happening with the Game. That was far more important.

But instead of finding a untouched dining table full of food she found Haymitch sitting there with a cup of what she could only assume was some kind of liquor. He looked up when he heard her, something that in itself showed that Haymitch hadn't won his Games by chance. Few picked up on her footsteps now, more than once she had snuck up on both other victors and Capitol residents without even meaning to.

"Well look what the cat dragged in. You really shouldn't stay out having fun all night." He said in a jovial manner.

"Yeah, that's what I was doing." She muttered quietly in response, more to herself than him. But he seemed to have heard it and sobered up slightly. But he didn't apologize, the appointments was something almost all victors had done at least a few times. Only a few did it on a regular basis. Haymitch was not one of them, at least not anymore.

"The victory tour, and the 75th. What do you know?" She was surprised by his direct approach. He rarely asked her for information. He usually didn't care enough to find out, but then again his victory had been a quarter quell, he knew how bad they could get. It seemed she once again would be giving some information away for free.

"I don't know anything about the tour. But the tributes are going to be picked from the past victors." She told him what she had told Finnick the previous night.

"So you are safe?" He asked and she was a little touched by his concern. She thought he liked Katniss more. She was after all, how did Finnick and Haymich put it? Was not a 'bitch'.

"So it would seem, but things changes all the time. Maybe all four of us are going to end up in the arena."

"You are right."

"Now, wanna tell me what really brings you here? I assumed you would be in your 6-month-long drunken stoop back in victory village by now."

"That is a 12-month-stoop." He corrected with mock offense. Before throwing away his carefree mask yet again. "You need to come back and talk to them. They won't listen to me."

"And what makes you think they would listen to me? I admit I had a few chats with Peeta, but Katniss was all yours. And I am guessing she is the problem."

"She knows what you did for them. You need to explain to her how important it is to keep the ruse up."

"You know Peeta actually loves the girl, right?"

"Not even a blind man could miss it."

"Fine. I have two more appointments this week. I can come on Tuesday next week. Should we tell them about the 75th?"

"They have enough to deal with. Besides, Katniss still goes out hunting. They are keeping their edges sharp."

"She is going to die, you know that. They are arranging this entire thing to kill her off. She is dangerous."

"How?" He asked, and once again she was taken back to his sudden interest in what was going on. This was not his usual behaviour.

"If you want more news from me, you better tell me what is going on with you." She told him. "Why do you want this information?"

"Fine." He said, but he didn't elaborate. She let it go.

"You came all this way to ask me to come back to the district?"

"You are not the only reason I am here. You don't know everything." He said, trying to tease her, but she sensed a grain of truth in his words. He knew something that he at least thought she didn't.

"Want to spar?" She asked instead of probing, he was never good with secrets. He would spill sooner or later, probably sooner if she didn't push. That was the risk of almost constant drunkenness.

"You know, you should spend more time in 12."

"I have things to do here." She said.

"What about your parents? They miss you."

"They lost their daughter when they did nothing to stop them from taking me to participate in the Games."

"What would you have had them do? They would have been killed if they did something. Anything. Your mother was pregnant for Christ sake."

"I know you keep them semi updated on me. That's fine. But I want nothing to do with them." She said coldly, her anger protected both them and her. As long as she more or less publicly blamed them Snow would leave them alone. There would be no point in trying to use them against her.

"Have you even seen your brother?" He asked, sounding unusually accusing. He knew very well she hadn't, and unless he got reaped in a few years she probably never would.

"I don't have a brother." She replied instead. Though he seemed to see straight through her.

"'Lee…"

"I don't have a brother." She repeated more strongly.

"He looks like you, same green eyes, same blond hair." She stood up.

"Shut up." She told him, grabbing a fruit and headed out the door. Ignoring him the best she could as he continued yelling after her. "Your mum's shin and dad's cheekbones!"

The training area looked the same as it had before the last Games, they hadn't begun the updates yet. But they would no doubt begin soon. As soon as the Games ends the preparations for the next begins.

She wasn't sure how long she had been down there, throwing knives and practising her sword technic when the doors opened behind her and Johanna, another victor, came though them. She stopped at the sight of Rosalie, but soon nodded a greeting, which she returned.

"I would be more of a challenge than those dolls." She told her, looking the dolls. "If you win I will even teach you how to throw an axe. I could make you almost as good as me."

"And if you win?" She asked, she didn't have a special skill. She was fairly apt at camouflage, knives and swords… but nothing truly impressive. Her skill laid in improvisation; it had saved her live more than once. But it was hard to teach someone. Johanna only smirked.

"What you do best, trade secrets. I am sure you know something you think would benefit me to know. You always have the best information."

"Something in particular you are interested in?"

"I have heard some whispers I am hoping you could verify."

"You got a deal."

By the time Rosalie left the training area she had a victory, sore limbs, and a promise of a new talent under her belt. Things seemed to be looking up. Perhaps the day wouldn't turn out as unrewarding as the one before. But now she simply needed to take a quick nap and then prepare for another one of her appointments. Luckily Cornelius was old, it wouldn't take too much energy to keep him satisfied. And hopefully he would have some interesting news on the district uprisings to share with her. For a man in his position he was surprisingly gullible, it never took much to get him to confess his worries to her. But then again, he probably couldn't see why such news was of any value to one such as her. Few who wasn't directly involved in the Games understood their true purpose, or saw how the uprisings may affect them or past victors.

It was sad really, seven years after her first victory her life still revolved around the Games, and most likely always would. In a decade or two they might stop using her as a sex toy, then perhaps her life would at least in some aspects become her own again, but the Games would always be there… and every year she would be dragged back as a mentor, giving her front row seats to more child executions. For that was really what the Games were, executions.

Apart from her moments of depression time was moving fast. Rosalie was kept busy both within and outside the Capitol. She had, as promised, gone back to District 12 for two weeks, trying to make both Peeta and Katniss understand their new circumstances. Neither seemed to though, and on more than one occasion, especially with Katniss, Rosalie had been close to yelling at her, telling her just what awaited a young pretty single victor in the Capitol. She had even considered telling her about the 75th Games. Only her promise to Haymitch had stopped her. In truth she was both annoyed and impressed by Katniss insistence on continuing her life. Rosalie had never even tried, she had cut ties with everyone and everything the moment she won the Games. She knew what happened to victor's friends and families. She wondered how long she would last before Katniss did the same. It tended to be a difficult lesson to learn.

**TBC…**

A/N: _I never exchange one character for another, giving them the same lines or having them take over tasks for the original. Besides I like Katniss, I think she is vital to the story. She is the Mockingjay, she was the spark that started a resistance. Rosalie has her own story. That is not to say she can't be in the Games too… _


	3. A Meeting with the President

**Chapter THREE**

After her visit to her home district Rosalie was not too surprised to find herself being led into the president's office. What did surprise her was the other occupant in the room. Finnick.

"Ah, welcome back." Snow smiled at her with all the warmth of an ice giant. "How was your trip home? Did you see your family?"

"Shall we skip the pleasantries?" Rosalie asked tiredly. "Why am I here? I have done nothing out of the ordinary lately. In fact I have been playing the good mentor, preparing my charges for the victory tour."

"I have been informed. However, when I was watching TV with my family, just as I thought that your charges were given far too much attention, Sebastian off-handily made a comment that simply stuck. He said they don't make nearly as attractive a couple as you and Mr Odair. This got me thinking, what better way to draw attention away from them than a wedding."

"A wedding?" She repeated. This could not be going in the direction she was thinking, could it?

"Yes, changing one romance to another so to speak." A pretend romance she could understand, by why a wedding?

"Who?" She asked dumbly, hoping she misunderstood, while Finnick sat in complete silence. He wasn't saying a word or giving a single hint of what he was thinking or feeling. She wondered if he already had been told, or if he was merely too stunned to speak.

"Why you and Mr Odair of course. The news of your romance has already been leaked. I will expect a wedding announcement before the victory tour. Which of course you will no longer need to attend."

"Why?" She asked, she had a very bad feeling all of a sudden.

"After your marriage you will belong to the same district as your new husband. It wouldn't be fair to keep you apart." He said, and suddenly his wedding idea made much more sense. And somehow she was now fairly sure that it would be the female tribute draw in District 4 that would be as rigged, not 12. After all, why rig it if there was only one female tribute left.

"Why?" She asked defeated. She couldn't think of a single reason he would want to remove her now. She had been far more rebellious in the past without any real punishments. This seemed… extreme.

"I can't have you playing Gamemaker behind the scenes, it simply can not happen again."

"Don't do this…" She said, a hint of a plea in her words.

"I am not doing anything. You are."

"What about our… lovers?" She asked, pulling on the last straw she could think of.

"You will be busy for a while, but for people such as you I am sure a closed marriage will soon loose its appeal, do you not agree?"

"Of course." Finnick spoke for the first time since she entered. She wanted to scream. She could refuse… she'd rather die in an 'accident' than in the arena. She didn't want to fight Haymitch or Peeta, or even Katniss. But just as the thought passed though her mind the doors opened again and a toddler came through, running straight to the President, half hiding behind him.

It was a little boy, dressed surprisingly normal for a Capitol child. But his presence didn't make any sense. Nor did Snow's genuine curiosity when he watched her taking the child in, it even lingered in his tone as he began to speak again.

"And before you get any ideas, Rosalie, I would like you to meet Octavian. He is a very intelligent child, happy too. But should you decide to do something stupid that could change very fast." He warned and all she could do was stare at him. She really didn't understand why he was threatening Capitol children to get her to comply. It wouldn't work. Snow must have seen it too because he sighed, lifting the child into his lap, and continued. "Look at those green little eyes, the colour of the forest, that cute little button nose, the natural waves in his hair. Is he not beautiful?" He asked, and as she involuntarily looked at the highlighted features it clicked. They were hers. But this boy couldn't be her brother, he was much too young. Did she have more than one? No, Haymitch would have said something. "Without you, this little boy wouldn't be possible." He continued and then she understood. It sickened her.

When she was 15, just after she had begun her appointments Snow had arranged for her to a visit to the hospital. She thought he was going to sterilise her, to ensure she didn't fall pregnant; instead he had removed a few of her eggs. Apparently there had been a request for them that he couldn't refuse. She hadn't really understood then, or even thought much about it. But now she knew, she understood why. The child in front of her was the result of that day, he was her son.

The thought horrified her, but she refused to show it. Only years in the Capitol allowed her to hide her feelings, but she hadn't been fast enough. At least not judging from the pleased smile on Snow's face. "Good, now you understand."

"What do I care?"

"You care." He said confidently. "You knew his father quite well actually." He continued. "His death was so unnecessary. Poor Octavian. Imagine, never even knowing why your father killed himself." She wanted to throw up, but did her best to hide it as he continued his charade. "It must be very difficult."

"Who was his father?" She asked against her will, though she could guess now that she had the proof in front of her. He looked like a mix of the two of them.

"I'm sorry. How rude of me." He smiled. "Rosalie, meet Octavian Crane. Seneca's son."

"He." She swallowed hard. She couldn't help herself. "He is not mine. I did not give birth to him."

"I would not dream of claiming he belongs to anyone other than the Cranes. Isobel already lost her husband, I would hate to take her son too. Not that he is really hers, though she doesn't know that. To Seneca you really were the only one. I must admit I am curious as to how you do it. Some may even say he only chose Isobel because of her physical similarity to you. Sad really. Of course they don't know her as I do. She is really a lovely woman. I took it upon myself to look after both her and their son after Seneca's death. It's the least I could do. They are practically family now." All she could do was glare at him, she had already given herself away, it didn't matter now. He smiled. "Perhaps you will know the joys of motherhood too, after your wedding."

"I can only hope." She said coldly. Agreeing to his plan.

"Good. You may leave, both of you." Rosalie was on her feet before Finnick, but before she left she looked back at Snow.

"You can use this boy once, he is not my son. I owe him nothing, and if you try to use him again I won't listen." She told him with a surprisingly clear voice, and she meant it. At least she thought she did. And with that said she left the office without even looking at her unofficial fiancé. She wanted to be as far away from Snow and the child as she could. She had nothing to do with his creation, he was a product of Snow and Sencea… but with every thought his face seemed to root itself stronger and stronger in her memory.

He really did look like her, but he had his father's dark hair and lips. While much could be said about her late lover, but there was no doubt he was attractive, and their child was beautiful. He was also too young to have been destroyed by Snow and the Capitol. But he would be, it was only a matter of time. As long Snow lived, as long as the Capitol ruled, no child stood a chance.

She had always thought Snow a monster, but to use a toddler. He was even younger than those he sent to the Games every year… How many of her eggs had he sold? How many weapons did Snow have hidden to use against her? How many other children did she have running around the Capitol, hiding under other names? She didn't even want to known, one was too many as it was. Had he done the same to Johanna? To Finnick? To Cashmere? Or where they all obedient enough as it was? If she had ever doubted it even for a second she now knew with absolute certainty that Snow was pure evil.

**TBC…**

Now, if I don't start getting some reviews I am gonna start doubting my writing skills, especially in writing OCs and coming up with at least somewhat original plots. And I gotta say, it is not easy in this fandom. Most just kill Katniss off or delete her from the story, but even then they just tend to more or less just have their OC take over her role. Some times even her love interests. I promise I won't do that!


	4. Differences

_**IMPORTANT A/N:**__ After some consideration (due to come of my reviews) I have done one major change to the story, though you don't really need to reread anything if you don't want to. As far as you are concerned only the prologue and a few sentences here and there that have been changed slightly. Instead of participating in 4 games, Rosalie has only been in 2. Her original and the one with Adam (the little boy she couldn't save) and that was the 72de Game. Ok? Now, on to chapter four!_

**Chapter FOUR**

Not surprisingly Rosalie ended up back in the training centre not long after the meeting, and for a second she thought about seeking someone out to tell him or her what had just happened. But who could she tell? She didn't have friends, allies were not to be trusted, and lovers… none she could confide in, none that might not go to Snow and ask for a few eggs for themselves to use. She supposed she had Haymitch, she trusted him. But he was in 12, so even that was folly. She couldn't do that anymore. The moment she married Finnick she would be a four, she would be the enemy. She couldn't give him anything more that he could use against her in the arena. She was truly alone. For the first time in years she wanted to go home, she wanted to sit in the kitchen with her mother and tell her everything and have her promise that everything was going to be alright, even if they both knew it wouldn't. Wasn't what she had told her on the morning of the reaping seven years earlier?

When Finnick showed up on her doorstep a few hours later Rosalie was tempted to throw the door in his face. But this was not his fault; he was as much a victim in all this as she was. So instead she stepped out of the doorway and allowed him entrance to the District 12 victor/tribute apartment.

He began by walking around, taking in the room, comparing it to District 4's. She didn't listen, instead she watched. He looked so relaxed, like he had been able to just write off everything that had happened in the last few hours, everything he had been told. She wondered if he had, or if he was really that good of an actor. She almost hoped the first option was the truth.

"Well, I guess you will be moving up. Literally, 4's is on a higher floor." He grinned at her. He looked like had in his flat. A flirt. Did he expect her to sleep with him?

"As your wife, won't I even get to stay in your apartment?" She asked.

"That's for my appointments. I prefer keeping things separate." He confessed, much to her surprise. "Now this wedding…"

"He will have me killed off in the Games, you won't be married long. I'm sorry you got dragged into this. But I would appreciate it if you at least pretend to morn me when I am gone." She said dryly.

"You have survived two times. Why not a third?"

"My uses no longer overshadow my disobedience, apparently." She said, sounding surprisingly blasé. "I also refuse to harm Haymitch." She shook her head, she had said more than she should. "Why are you here? I doubt it is to compare apartments or chat about my victory chances."

"A date."

"For the wedding?" She asked surprised. He moved fast.

"No, a date. Dinner." She supposed he was right, Snow wanted dinner and a show. Not just a snack.

"First we need to make things fair." She said, causing his eyebrows to rise.

"How so?"

"You know why I agreed to this, why did you?"

"That is fair I suppose." He agreed, it was surprisingly easy. "A word from him could mean the death of someone I care for."

"The victor of the 65th." She guessed, she had heard the rumours. And he didn't have any family left. "What is her name again? Amie?"

"Annie. You really do know everything. They weren't exaggerating." He said, a little uncomfortable.

"So you are marrying someone else to keep your girlfriend safe." She asked incredulously, ignoring the end of his statement. It could have been anyone who had told him that. Instead she sarcastically added, "I'm sure she will appreciate that."

"You are marrying me to keep Seneca's son alive." Putting it like that his reasons sounded far better. "He isn't yours you know. You don't have to do anything for him."

"What would you know about it?" She asked, more defensively than she had intended.

"You think you are the only one they have used as a breeding partner? I admit I have never seen any of them, but I know they are not mine. The only woman who will ever carry my child is someone I chose to be with."

"It's different for you. We do things differently. You play everything off, playing the playboy. You don't get close. To get what I need from my appointments I need to get to know them, I need make up a world for them. The person I was with Seneca did, at least in a way, cared for him. He was not a bad man; if he was I wouldn't have been able to convince him to do what he did. And now I am told that the son he used to tell me about is mine… I didn't even consider him when I had Seneca spare Peeta and Katniss… now that boy has no one."

"He has his mother. He is not your son. He just happens to have some of your genes. You need to remember that. Or you will go insane." Having someone who just had all but declared his love for a girl who is as mad as a hatter tell her that… well, it was laughable. She shook his head.

"His favourite colour is blue, not the light blue of the day sky but that of the night sky. He doesn't like the water, he cries when they put him in a bath and keeps crying until he gets his rubber duck. He loves carrot pure, I know, strange for a little kid huh?" She smiled. "But he gets it all over his face and cloths when he eats it." Finnick gave her a strange look. She shook her head. "Its because I listen when they talk that they tell me what they do. Seneca really loved him. I may not have seen Octavian before, but in some ways I do know him. It's because I know these things, because I now know what he looks like, that he was created using a part of me, that I can't just forget and ignore him."

"You do your own parents. Your brother." He said, she almost flinched. She had no idea people outside of 12 knew that.

"That is different. My parents abandoned me, they sent me to be killed." She said, falling back on her usual response. The lie came easy, perhaps because it wasn't entirely a lie. She did feel betrayed by them, by the entire district.

"And you won't do the same?" He asked, almost mockingly.

"He is not my son, this is different. I know that. But I do care, even if you don't care about the little Odairs running around the Capitol. Are there little Annies too? You don't care about those either?" She added, just to hurt him with her words as he had hurt. "I'm sure they must be adorable. She is beautiful in a slightly insane way. I wonder if it's hereditary."

"They leave her alone." He said in a surprisingly cold tone that told her there was something else there. But she decided to let it be. She didn't need to make an enemy out of him.

"I'm sorry." She said instead. "How about I won't talk about her and you won't talk about Octavian?"

"Your reasons are your own." He agreed, but it was followed by an awkward silence until she forced herself to speak.

"They are. As are yours. Let's just make the best of the situation."

"A date then?"

"Not yet. I need to save as much as I can before then. I have some people to convince that this isn't my choice, and that my love still belongs to them before we can go public."

"Snow-"

"Snow won't care. He still want his money, the pleasure in knowing that I will keep selling myself for semi-peace and information, and of course the pleasure of silently laughing at my lovers' folly for falling victim to my manipulations. He has no intention of ending these arrangements because of a marriage. He said so."

"You could take a break. We wouldn't need to have any appointments for a while..," He said, reminding her once again of what Snow had said. The prospect seemed to please him, as if it was the equivalent of a vacation, and she understood why… but it wasn't worth it.

"You don't have to. I do. I have spent months, sometimes years, earning these men's trust and affection. I won't risk it. They are powerful men, they are bound to be good sponsors, and good for information. I can't 'take a break'."

"You want to be a prostitute?" He asked, sounding genuinely disgusted with her for the first time. It made her snap.

"Of course not! But I would not stop being one just bacase 'I didn't have any appointments for a few weeks, I would only be on a short break. And then I would have to redo all the work I have done so far. You don't know what I had to do to them, for them, to make them see me as they do. It's beyond degrading to…" She shook her head. "Like I said it's different for us."

"Fine, one week. After that we have to put the plan in motion or Snow will punish us, and force our hands."

"I know."

**TBC**


	5. Planning

**Chapter FIVE**

Rosalie was close to collapsing when she reached the training centre. The week had been an exhausting one. She had been forced to schedule a meeting with each of her regulars in less than a week's time. Usually she tried to have one or two days between appointments as it took at least half a days preparation to get into character before the 'date', this week she hadn't had that option. At least Snow hadn't decided to add extra to her workload. But it was over now, at least for a while. Her last appointment had been the most tiring; he was also one of her most important regulars. But he was also the one she liked the least.

To say the beginning of their 'relationship' had been difficult was to put it mildly. For the first two months she returned to the flat with large bruises all over her body. Then one night she had had enough and hit him back. She had been more than a little surprise when he had moaned and asked her to do it again. He got off on it. It had been the start of her first, and so far only, dominatrix job. She supposed it had come as a surprise to him too, his need for punishments, but he had soon accepted it whole-heartedly. She had not, she only did what she had too, there was nothing sexually exciting about hitting and whipping your lover in her opinion. Though she rather deliver the 'punishment' than receive it. But while he had been the one appointment that took the most out of her, he was by no means the most difficult one. He had accepted their 'break' as a true submissive. It was more difficult with the ones she played out a girlfriend fantasy with. At least three of them genuinely thought they loved her, and her them. One of them had even offered to run away with her. Fool.

By the time she reached her floor she was all but blind to the world around her, she just wanted her bed; her warm, soft bed, all to her lonesome. But fate had decided to act against her, waiting by her door was none other than her husband-to-be. He was watching her with raised eyebrows as he took in her skin-tight leather ensemble. She knew she should have put her other pants on when she left Marcus's, but it had been late and she had been tired. But after seeing Finnick's expression she was tempted to slip back into character, hit her whip against the wall and demand to know how he dared come to her uninvited. She wondered how he would react. But she didn't, Fennick was not an appointment.

Her characters had originally been a way to protect herself; to distance herself from what she was forced to do. With time they had also become a very useful method of manipulation. If she forgot who she was, it was easy to become who she needed to be to get what she wanted and needed. She had made it into an art form. She really was a chameleon.

"Can this wait?" She asked, sounding more tired than she had intended to when she finally gave Finnick her attention.

"I thought we should discuss our first official 'date', where, what we should wear, how we should act, etc." He said, but there was an understanding in his eyes, he didn't pity her, didn't judge. He understood where she had been, what she had done. He understood how tiring it could all be. "If you really are too tired we can do it tomorrow morning."

"Might as well get it over with." She said, opening the door and allowing him access. "Just give me a few minutes to go change. I hate these cloths."

"I can see why you wear them though, you look like a dominatrix straight from a bondage sex dream." He said, with his usual half-sexual lilt. She ignored him.

When she returned she was dressed in a simple grey dress from back home, from District 12. Usually she wouldn't let anyone but Haymitch see her in them when in the Capitol, but she supposed Finnick and District four's other victors might as well get used them since she would be moving there soon.

Finnick was sitting in the sofa when she entered, and he truly looked at home. Not for the first time she wondered about his acting skills, and just how much she could trust him. He was too good. Surely he had to be as uncomfortable with this new arrangement as she was, if not more so considering Annie. But he didn't show it. She silently berated herself, such thoughts would have to wait. Finnick was right; for now they just needed to plan.

He smiled when he saw her, and it seemed genuine. It wasn't seductive in the slightest. It looked odd on him.

"I like you better like this, out of Capitol dresses."

"I thought you liked the dominatrix outfit." She said dryly.

"I am man enough to admire a beautiful female body when I see one. But this makes you look like what you are."

"And what is that?"

"Not of the Capitol." He said calmly. "You play your role so well I almost forget sometimes."

"No doubt we will have a Capitol wedding, with a few District twists to keep our audience happy. Don't get too used to it."

"Already planning the wedding?" He asked with a teasing edge, so different from her mocking statement. "You really must be a girl under that hard exterior of yours."

"Oh yes, my dream has always been to marry the great Finnick Odair. You should see my old school notebooks, they are full of your name and hearts." She said, and was horrified when she remembered that that wasn't exactly a lie. She had had a short crush on him in her pre-teens, before she had been reaped. But she couldn't remember if she had actually done what she had said or not.

"I will make sure to ask your mum for a little glimpse when I met her." He replied, seeming to enjoy himself. But his statement brought her up cold. She was not involving her family in this little scheme.

"Let's just plan the date." She said, wanting to change the subject. "We could attend the Quinells' gala tomorrow, I assume you have received an invite."

"Too official for our first appearance together. We should do something that would make the reveal appear accidental. Perhaps get caught using bad costumes?"

"Marcus has left standing orders that any photos of me from unofficial events are to be deleted." She said, as if he should have been able to figure that out on his own. Apparently he had not.

"You are on first-name basis with the head of all media channels in Panem? Not only that, he does favours for you?"

"He is a regular." She dismissed, letting it slip without intending to. As it turned out it may be more difficult to keep her little list from Finnick than she had originally thought. "He understands the delicacy needed for what I do."

"I always wondered about him, what does he like? He seems so… I don't know how to describe it…" He asked with a curious glimmer in his eyes that made her want to share. She had never had anyone she could laugh at the elites' ridiculous bedroom requests, but no. Finnick was not a friend; she did not have friends.

"Focus." She said instead. "We need to go to something official. If someone asks we will merely say that with all the rumours going around we might as well be open with it. We should make a grand entrance. I have just the dress. Cinna had it made for me for the victor's feast, but an appointment kept me from attending that day."

"You are going to be on fire?" He asked.

"No, that is Katniss thing. It has more to do with mining and gold."

"I thought you had minerals, not gold."

"And you have fish, not mermaids and mermen. They always want to add some mystic and glamour."

"I see your point." He conceded. "Fine, the gala then."

"Good. Come down tomorrow and I will show you the gown, you can dress in accordance."

"Perhaps I already have something in mind."

"A girl's dress is always more important than whatever the boy wears."

"I am a man."

"And I am a woman. It doesn't change facts. Until then, just think black, gold and gold dust. And now I really want to sleep."

**TBC…**


End file.
